


Make My Aim True

by LadyKnightOfHollyrose



Series: RobinHood!AU [1]
Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Fusion, Gen, M/M, Prequel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-31
Updated: 2013-12-31
Packaged: 2018-01-06 20:19:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,065
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1111098
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyKnightOfHollyrose/pseuds/LadyKnightOfHollyrose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“You’re never going to hit the tree at the rate you’re going.”  “And just what would a scrawny little thing like you know about that?” “Want me to show you?” Oneshot, AU</p>
            </blockquote>





	Make My Aim True

Releasing the string of his bow with a snap, Gilbert cursed as his arrow landed uselessly in a pile of fallen leaves on the ground. He stared at it for a moment, debating whether it was worth retrieving or if he should just pluck a new one from his quiver, when he heard a sharp voice from behind him.

“You’re never going to hit the tree at the rate you’re going.”

Gilbert turned, narrowing his eyes at the boy he saw leaning against one of the trees in _his_ clearing. He had a wild mop of blond hair; his eyes ablaze in a way no one at the castle could muster save for perhaps Elizaveta. The clothes he wore were well worn, his boots a little too large for him but hardy. A moss green cloak was draped over his shoulders, lined with scratchy wool there to keep out the late autumn chill. The boy was small, smaller than Gilbert was, though the set of his jaw showed that he was no pushover.

Still, Gilbert had never been able to help himself.

“And just what would a scrawny little thing like you know about that?”

Instead of losing his temper as Gilbert had expected of him, the boy merely stepped out from under his tree and approached, one heavy brow rising in challenge.

“Want me to show you?”

The boy’s tone was level, without inflection. Gilbert would wager that it wasn’t the first time these words had left the boy’s lips, and that they had often (if not always) been met by raucous laughter.

Gilbert considered the offer briefly. Then, he shrugged in acquiescence.

The boy set down his own quiver and bow, before reaching out for Gilbert’s. Amused, Gilbert handed his over to the boy and wondered how many had accused him of having an unfair advantage with his own equipment upon their loss, when challenged previously.

He hefted the bow, getting a feel for its weight, and tested the string’s reach and tautness as he pulled it back. He rolled his shoulders and plucked an arrow from the full quiver at his back.

Gilbert’s eyes grew wide. The boy knocked the arrow with a smooth, practiced grace; his eyes flickered up to the ugly handkerchief Gilbert had stolen from Elizaveta to use as a target for barely a moment, before releasing the string with a twang.

It hit the handkerchief dead centre, and when Gilbert went to inspect the damage, he found the arrow buried deeper into the wood than the pocket knife he’d used to tack the small piece of cloth there in the first place.

“That,” Gilbert breathed, turning to look the boy in the eye once more, “was brilliant.”

A slight flush rose in the boy’s cheeks, his brows rising up his forehead in his surprise at the praise. His thin shoulders hunched beneath his cloak in a shrug, and he thrust the bow and quiver back to their rightful owner as soon as Gilbert was close enough to take them back.

Gilbert accepted them absently, still watching the smaller boy.

There was something about him that held Gilbert’s interest; he wasn’t sure if it was the almost restless way he seemed to hold himself now that his point had been made, or the sharp intensity of the forest green eyes that had held his gaze so staunchly. Perhaps it was the way he had been so assured of his victory; the very confidence that had made Gilbert want to see him shoot for himself.

He was still in the boy’s line of sight as the other gathered up his own belongings from where they had been left. Gilbert knocked a new arrow, trying to visualise the way the boy’s arrow had sailed through the air and into the target as though summoned.

This time, his arrow actually did manage to glance off a tree, though it wasn’t the one he had been aiming for. Still, it felt like an improvement.

He peered over his shoulder, only to see that the boy hadn’t even been paying attention. Instead, he inspected the fletching of one of the arrows Gilbert had discarded earlier that day.

Gilbert huffed. He set his quiver down and traipsed towards the tree, his boots leaving behind a satisfying crinkling sound every time he took a step forward. He snatched up the arrow, checked the head for damage and made his way back towards his quiver.

His fingers curled around his bow, lining up his shot with the arrow in his hand. He lined up his shot, his eyes flickering to the side for a moment. Gilbert felt himself shift under the gaze, knowing that his audience was not likely to remain captive.

He took a deep breath, drawing back the bowstring-

 “How is it that your stance has gotten _worse_?”

There was light crunch of movement behind him. Gilbert smirked to himself.

A foot hooked around his ankle and dragged his foot out a little; the boy stomped into his vision and prodded his shoulders until he was facing sideways. Apparently the young archer had lost any of the reservation he’d had due to Gilbert’s station, as rough hands adjusted Gilbert’s grip on the bow slightly while he grumbled lightly to himself.

“Give that a try.”

Gilbert let the arrow fly, unable to supress a smile of delight when it actually hit the tree he had been aiming for. It was still quite a ways off from the _handkerchief_ , but well, he hadn’t been expecting anything miraculous.

The boy looked him over for a moment in silence, before cracking a small smile of his own. “You’re looking a little too happy for someone who just missed their mark entirely.” The remark was dry, but far less cutting than he had been before.

If anything, the corners of Gilbert’s lips lifted further. “Considering where my previous attempts landed, I’d say I’ve made a marked improvement.”

The boy snorted, rolling his eyes. “Yes, with guidance.”

“Exactly.”

The boy’s eyes snapped back to Gilbert’s at that.

“What.”

The spark in Gilbert’s eye turned downright mirthful; he could already tell that his battle was won.

“You can’t, in good conscience, possibly leave behind a willing student when their abysmal form is in such need of your instruction.”

The resigned – and thoroughly exasperated – sigh he received, was all the answer he needed.

**Author's Note:**

> I’ve had this fic in the works for quite a while, but suddenly having a job kind of killed my writing drive ^^’ I’m hoping that it’s back now (and I am currently working on the prompts that I’ve received). I was hoping to have this finished earlier than this though, so I should probably be asleep by now.
> 
> As always, thanks to whitewings9 for reading it through for me; any mistakes remaining are my own :3


End file.
